


Therapy

by dragonspell



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And you!” the man wearing Mick’s face shouts, pointing at Leonard.  “I’m going to kill you, do you hear me?”  Leonard keeps his head against the wall but tilts it slightly towards Mick’s voice, a loose acknowledgement of the threats being made against him. “But first I’m going to fuck you.  I’m going to bend you over and fuck you so hard that my cock will be the only thing that you remember.”  Mick pauses.  “You tell them what a cockslut you are, Snart?  You tell them how much you like being fucked?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Leonard drawls, “it was right in between the discussions about liking card games and single malt scotch.”</p><p>Mick steps closer to the edge of his cell.  “Mmm, how about the first time we fucked?  You couldn’t stop shaking.  Sixteen and didn’t know shit besides the fact that you wanted me.”  Well there’s a trip down memory lane.  Yes, Leonard remembers that.  And it’s not something that Mick gets to toss out because he’s pissed or Chronos gets to use because he’s gunning for some kind of fucked-up revenge.</p><p>(Or, after the team captures Chronos, Leonard gets creative trying to help him remember being Mick again.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy

“And you!” the man wearing Mick’s face shouts, pointing at Leonard. “I’m going to kill you, do you hear me? Do you hear me?” Leonard keeps his head against the wall but tilts it slightly towards Mick’s voice, a loose acknowledgement of the threats being made against him. “I’m going to gut you. Tear you to pieces. Show the world who you really are.” The voice grows darker, desire bubbling through it. “But first I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to bend you over and fuck you so hard that my cock will be the only thing that you remember. You’ll be begging me for more.” Mick pauses. “Just like you used to. You tell them what a cockslut you are, Snart? You tell them how much you like being fucked?”

Jax is suddenly finding his shoes fascinating, while Palmer’s a bright red and Kendra’s inching towards the door. Leonard, in the meantime, can’t believe his ears. What is this shit coming out of Mick’s mouth? “Yeah,” he drawls, “it was right in between the discussions about liking card games and single malt scotch.”

Mick steps closer to the edge of his cell. “Mmm, how about the first time we fucked? You couldn’t stop shaking. Sixteen and didn’t know shit besides the fact that you wanted me.” 

Well there’s a trip down memory lane. Yes, Leonard remembers that. And it’s not something that Mick gets to toss out because he’s pissed or Chronos gets to use because he’s gunning for some kind of fucked-up revenge. “Are you going to recount our entire history?” Leonard snaps. “Just wanted to know, Mick, because it’s a bit long. Wouldn’t want everyone to get bored.” Everyone in the room swings their head over to him like they’re watching a tennis match. Leonard doesn’t know what’s pissing him off more, the fact that Mick’s stuck in that cell, mind apparently fucked and tossing out memories like grenades, or the fact that the entire goddamned team is still here listening to it all.

Leonard straightens from his slouch and faces Mick head-on. “We could talk about the first time you tried to actually fuck me,” he spits out, a memory for a memory. It’s enough to force Mick a step back despite the wall separating them. Fucking _good_. “You know, when you couldn’t get it up. You were too afraid that you’d hurt me. So I lied and said that it was fine, that I didn’t think I was ready anyways when I was, oh I was. I let you finger me until you finally got the nerves under control but it was too late because the excitement got the better of you.”

The words have propelled Leonard forward until he’s nearly up against the cell wall. Distantly, he registers that the doors have opened, but he’s unwilling to look away from Mick, Mick whose eyebrows are furling, whose lips are twisting, whose face is looking like Leonard has scored a direct goddamned hit. Maybe he’d _forgotten_ that all those memories rattling around up in his head that he thought he’d use against Leonard are Leonard’s, too. Leonard had _been_ there. And Leonard isn’t ashamed of any of them. 

Mick didn’t used to be either.

Leonard takes another step towards Mick. “We could talk about all the times you went to the bar to convince yourself that you could but only ended up back at my place, pawing at me and rambling about how there was no one else until you passed out on top of me.” Every few years or so, Mick would get a bug up his ass about something, say he was straight, that he didn’t want Leonard anymore, that he could do better, whatever fucking thing was on his mind, but always he’d come back. Just like Leonard had done for him. They always came back for each other.

“What about the first time that I fucked you?” Leonard demands. Mick stares back at him, mute. “Do you remember that? When you begged and squirmed on the bed until I finally let you come?” Leonard slams his fist into the clear wall between them, quick and sudden, a shot of anger bubbling over before he can catch it. “Or, hell, Mick, the fact that sometimes I prefer taking orders, wanting to know what to do and how to do it so I don’t have to think anymore. Might as well take the ammunition out of that smoking gun that you think you’ve got.” Leonard pauses, reining himself back in. He shakes his head. “What did those Time Masters do to you? You haven’t cared about any of this shit for years, Mick. Tell me, did they give you religion as well?”

Mick looks away. Leonard’s apparently stolen all of his hot air and now he’s nothing but a deflated balloon drifting in the memories. Leonard swallows hard. He’s won but he’s not sure that he wanted to. It’s only been days since Mick was last standing in front of him, still himself—and a matter of weeks since they’d been as good as they ever were, in sync, them against the world. What the fuck _happened?_

He turns on his heel and stalks out, leaving Mick alone in the cell. He can’t stand looking at him right now, seeing a man who looks like Mick, who might be Mick underneath, but sure as hell isn’t Mick right now.

Leonard will come back. They always come back for each other.

Eventually.

* * *

The plan might not be the best one that Leonard’s ever thought of, but it’s what he’s got and he’s going to do it. He strides back into the room housing Mick’s makeshift prison, drops the duffle that he’s brought with him, and orders, “Gideon, turn off all monitoring of this room and lock the door.”

“Confirmation number needed,” Gideon replies. Against the wall, as far from the light as he can get, Mick eyes Leonard suspiciously.

Leonard meets his gaze and Mick’s brow furls deeper. “The Battle of the Astile on the Wayward Plains. Captain Hayashi Isamu and Commander Wayland Fry. Whiskey Romeo Tango.”

“Confirmation received, Captain Hunter,” Gideon chirps. The door behind Leonard snaps shut.

Leonard smirks mockingly. “I don’t know what ‘Whiskey Romeo’ Rip tangoed with but did you know that it is in half of his passwords? Once is a coincidence, two’s a pattern, and anything beyond that is just sad.” 

“What are you doing here?” Mick growls. 

Leonard shrugs as he starts to circle the room. “I’ve got a question about the Time Masters,” he says. He spent a lot of time considering it, locked up in his quarters and staring at the wall, and he only came up with one possible answer. 

“I don’t have any answers.” 

Stepping towards the cell, Leonard asks anyway. “Are they all repressed?” He leans in, watching the emotions stampede across Mick’s face. “I’m curious.” Everything he’s gathered about the Time Masters from Rip and Gideon and Mick’s little tirade earlier seems to point that way. He knocks on Mick’s plexi-glass wall, studying where it disappears into the ceiling. Considering that Rip either didn’t have this little cell a few days ago or else forgot about it, it’s a nice little piece of work. Leonard continues on as he pretends like he’s more interested in Mick’s cell than he is in Mick. “You’ve always loved life, Mick,” he drawls, dragging his fingers over the faux glass, “loved to drink, loved to eat.” He brings his eyes back down to meet Mick’s. “Loved to fuck.” Mick surges to his feet, a low, warning rumble echoing in his throat and Leonard smirks. Score one more for him. “Did they make you feel dirty because you couldn’t live like a monk?”

Mick turns away, betraying the truth of Leonard’s statement without acknowledging it and Leonard nods. Those fucking time bastards were real pieces of work. What right did they have to wipe their self-righteous little paws all over Leonard’s partner? Trying to make Mick less than human? Mick had always been in love with life and the Time Masters had wanted him to live apart from it. It makes what Leonard’s about to do seem appropriate to him. Stepping back, Leonard slips off his jacket and drops it to the floor. Mick’s eyes lock back on him. “What are you doing?”

Leonard runs a hand over his left arm. “Just felt a little hot in here,” he says. “You know I don’t like the heat.” Mick snorts and at the pun, but his feet are seemingly moving without him, bringing him a few steps closer to Leonard. “Matter of fact…” Leonard trails his fingers down over his stomach and reaches the bottom hem of his shirt. “I might need to take this off, too. What do you think?”

Mick’s face tightens. “Whatever,” he rumbles, and Leonard smiles at the feigned disinterest. Mick hasn’t looked away since Leonard took off the jacket. 

“It doesn’t matter to you if I take my shirt off?” Leonard shrugs. “So, maybe just a little.” He pulls the shirt up to bare his stomach and Mick’s dropped gaze is anything but subtle, fixated on the strip of skin that Leonard’s revealing. Leonard scratches his nails through the line of hair leading into his groin and shivers, his hips giving a little rolling thrust. “Forgot how sensitive that was,” he says breathlessly. 

Mick steps forward again, nearly half-way across the cell now, and Leonard inches the shirt higher, letting his fingers slide over his skin. He stops when he reaches the bottom of his pecs, raising an eyebrow at Mick. “A little higher?” Mick grunts a non-answer and Leonard twists his lips in mock-thought. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to get too cold. Maybe I’ll just leave it like this.” He shifts his hands and reaches underneath the shirt, gasping when his fingers brush over his nipples. He gives in to his body’s natural response and lets his eyes flutter and his hips rock forward as he moans, low and soft. Unable to resist, he pinches each bud and pulls, making himself shudder. When he looks back at Mick, Mick is right on top of the fake glass, staring intently. “Remember when you found out how much I liked being touched here?” Leonard asks him. “First time I’d ever let anybody else touch me like that. I’d thought that I was going to die. I came in my pants. Remember that?” Mick stays silent, refusing to answer and Leonard chuckles. He lets his shirt fall back down and turns away. 

Mick grunts, his fingers scraping lightly over the wall before he remembers that it’s there. He drops his hands back to his side. He isn’t as disinterested as he’d like to pretend.

Leonard braces his foot against one of the Waverider’s seemingly ubiquitous boxes and bends over to tug at the laces. If this all goes according to plan, he’s going to need his boots off. Mick rumbles behind him. “You auditioning for Cocktails?”

See, that right there is another sign that Mick isn’t thinking quite right. He lobs it like an insult but Mick loves that sleazy strip club. Leonard’s always been a bit more lackluster on it. It’s not the first time that Mick’s accused him of moving like a stripper, but it is the first time that he’s said it in that particular tone. Normally, it’s what passes for foreplay with Mick when he’s feeling horny.

…Which might explain why Mick’s saying it now. Leonard pulls off his boot, tosses it to the floor, and changes his stance to start untying his other lace. “I don’t know,” he says. “Do you think my tail’s good enough?” He shakes the ‘tail’ in question, swinging it from side to side. Mick’s answer is a disgruntled huff. Leonard straightens and kicks his boot off before turning back around to face Mick. “Then there’s the ‘cock’ part.” He reaches down and shamelessly grabs his crotch. “What do you think, Mick? Should my cock and I audition for a strip show?”

Mick licks his lips and it’s better than a full on confession as far as Leonard’s concerned. He chuckles. “Oh, Mick.” He scrubs a finger over his mouth and turns back around to retrieve the duffle that he’d brought with him. “Do you remember asking me years ago if I’d give you a little show? When you wanted to go down to the club but you were flat-broke and said that I was prettier than the girls anyway, so please, please, please, Len?” He grabs the bag and looks at Mick, eyebrows raised.

“You said no.” Mick presses his forehead against the glass and closes his eyes for a brief moment.

Leonard nods. “That’s right.” The reasons why he turned Mick down that night numbered in the double digits but most came down to Mick being drunk off his ass and Leonard being unwilling to discard his inhibitions just because Mick was feeling bored. Their relationship had been too new at that point, too cautious. “Do you remember when I said yes?”

A low noise rumbles through Mick’s throat. “The Peninsula in Chicago. June of ’03.” Leonard cocks his head, impressed that Mick’s even remembered where. “Just picked up ten mil in diamonds from New York a day before. You wore some of them for me. When I asked you.”

Leonard sets the duffle down next to Mick’s cell, keeping it within easy reach and presses his hand against the glass. Mick taps his fingers against Leonard’s palm and keeps them there. “Gideon wouldn’t make me any diamonds,” he says. “But it made a few other things from that night.” Mick’s eyes drop to Leonard’s pants then back up, his breath visibly quickening. “Would you like to see?” Leonard asks.

Mick looks away, still clinging to anger and the Time Masters’ programming. He can’t bring himself to ask. Leonard wonders how long Mick spent under the Time Masters’ thumb, if it was actual lifetimes like Mick claimed aboard his ship or if it only felt that way. It probably doesn’t matter. To Mick, they were one and the same.

“You have to say it, Mick, or it won’t happen.” If Leonard can’t even get Mick to admit this much, then he might be wasting his time; he might be better off walking away.

“Yeah,” Mick breathes, air puffing against the glass.

“Yeah?” Leonard teases at the waistband of his jeans.

Mick looks up. “Yeah, I want to see them.”

Laughing quietly, Leonard slips his fingers underneath the waistband. He pulls at the top of his jeans, sliding them down on his hips like maybe he’s thinking of taking them off just like that. A strip of black lace peeks above the denim and he flicks his eyes back up to Mick, making sure that he’s got Mick’s full attention. With both hands braced against the glass, looking one step away from trying to break through it, Mick’s done pretending that he’s not interested. Leonard drags a finger over the zipper of his jeans. “How badly?” he asks.

“What?”

Leonard pulls a little bit more of lacey black up above his waistband. “How badly do you want to see them?” Mick glowers and Leonard holds his hands away from himself. “How badly, Mick?”

“Show them to me,” Mick growls. “You _fucking whore._ ”

Leonard shakes his head and glances at the ceiling as he digs deeper for patience. “You start calling me names, Mick, and we’ll be done here. Understand?”

Mick bangs his fist against the cell wall, mouth twisting into a deep scowl, and Leonard’s waiting for the words that he knows Mick must be dying to say, all of that puritan-based bullshit that the Time Masters’ imbued him with wanting to spew out into the room. In the end, however, he keeps silent, and Leonard takes that as a victory—a sign that Mick might be operating as Chronos on the surface, but underneath, he’s still Mick. It’s a little pinprick of hope in the frothing sea of hatred and anger that’s been bubbling over between them.

Leonard stands still, waiting for Mick to verify his answer and Mick sighs, his shoulders dropping. “Snart.”

“Snart?” Leonard asks. It might be pushing for too much, but he’s not going to do this if he’s just ‘Snart.’ ‘Snart’ is for when Mick’s pissed off at him, or when he’s trying to project a distance, like when they’re on the job and don’t want the hired help or the cops to know that there might be something to exploit between him and Leonard. ‘Snart’ doesn’t get Leonard out of his clothes. ‘Snart’ barely even gets him within touching distance.

“Len,” Mick rasps.

“Better.” Leonard pulls at his zipper, nudging it downward. He stops after about an inch and trails his fingers over the hard line of his cock again. His hips roll forward and so do Mick’s. “Wouldn’t want to go too fast,” Leonard says. “Wouldn’t be much of a show, would it?” He pushes the zipper down another inch. “You remember Amsterdam?”

Mick grunts. “Windmill paintings,” he says, his voice conveying disdain for ever stealing such a thing. Mick had been in disgusted with how much they’d gotten for them, that people would ever pay that kind of money for a painting of a windmill.

“And after?” Leonard asks. “That little shop with the silk and the lace?”

Mick groans and bangs his head against the barrier. “Red frilly skirt,” he says. “It just barely covered your ass. You let me have you all over that damn room.” He bangs his fist against the wall again. “Fuck, Len. Just kill me. It’d be more humane.”

“But not nearly as much fun.” Leonard smirks and unzips his jeans the rest of the way. “Gotham.”

“Handcuffs,” Mick mutters, memory flipping to the same page that Leonard’s on. “Stole ‘em right off the cops trying to arrest us for jacking those emeralds.”

“That was fun.” Leonard had liked having Mick restrained, arms pulled up over his head while Leonard made him gasp and writhe and beg. Gotham’s a shitty city, but Leonard’s got a special place in his heart for it. He and Mick have had some fun times there.

“Star City.”

Mick sighs. “Which time?”

“2001.” Leonard dips his fingers into the open ‘v’ of his jeans and strokes the line of his dick in the black lace.

“Blue sheets. Bed the size of Russia.” Along with a townhouse whose owners were on a two month vacation in the Mediterranean and a cool five million in bonds sitting in a not-so-secret safe. “I liked how you looked on it so much we stole the sheets, too.”

“They were nice sheets,” Leonard says. They’d used them on and off for the next year or so. 

There’s a hundred other city names sitting on Leonard’s tongue, remnants of their past, reminders that they’ve shared a lot in the years they’ve been running together. There’s Moscow and London, Rio and Sydney. Central holds more than most, high end jobs and all sorts of memorable firsts—the Hurlington Plaza, the Whittenburg Hotel, the Central City Museum. Keystone is sitting at the forefront of Leonard’s mind, too, specifically a little annex off the courthouse, but he won’t use it. That’s for him and Mick only, not whatever shards of Chronos there might be floating around between them.

Mick shifts his weight and moves his hands to the side then back again. “Split Rock River,” he whispers. 

Leonard cocks his head and frowns in puzzlement. “Minnesota?” Mick nods.

“Had to lay low for awhile. Couldn’t leave.” Mick takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “You let me take my time. I kissed you everywhere, touched you, stayed with you for hours. You let me.”

Leonard licks his lips. “Mick…” He doesn’t know what to say. There’s a lifetime hanging between them, endless what ifs and things that Leonard should have done.

“Thought you promised me a show,” Mick rumbles, bringing Leonard back to the present. His eyes meet Leonard’s and for the moment it’s Mick that’s staring back at him—Mick, not some Time Master creation, not some man that Leonard doesn’t recognize but _Mick_.

Over the need to tease, Leonard pushes his pants down to his thighs, baring his crotch to Mick. The scrap of black lace he’s wearing barely covers his cock, bulging outward with his balls and his steadily filling length, and Leonard feels a little shy and a lot ridiculous, same as he always does when he’s naked or when he does these things for Mick, but Mick’s mesmerized. Mick stares like he’s hoping to burn the image into his brain, and his mouth’s open, his tongue slipping over his lips like he does when he’s thinking about his next move—like he’s thinking about all the things that he would do if Leonard were within reach. Leonard adjusts the band of the panties he had Gideon make—he really hopes that Gideon keeps that to itself—and holds out his hands. “How’s that?” he asks.

“Take your pants off.” Mick replies. “Then bend over.” His finger twirls in the air, replicating what he’d like Leonard to do. It’s so Mick that Leonard does it. He ducks his head to hide his laugh and slowly turns in a circle. Mick grunts in approval.

Facing away from Mick, Leonard braces a hand against his lower back and arches, feeling the stretch as he contorts. He pushes his jeans farther down his legs and bends forward. “Yeah, Lenny,” Mick mutters. His skin squeaks against the glass. “Turn back around. Let me see your front again.” Leonard rolls his eyes and does as Mick asks. “Touch yourself. Fuck, Len, touch yourself.”

“Getting a little demanding, Mick,” Leonard teases. He trails his hands over his thighs and up over the black lace, then pushes underneath his shirt, lifting it again. “Like this?” Leonard asks.

Mick surges against the glass, rumbling when he gets nowhere, and settles back into position. “Take your shirt off.”

Leonard arches an eyebrow as he plays with the raised hem of his shirt. “You sure? You didn’t seem all that into it when I asked last time.”

“Yeah and we both know I’m always interested in seeing you naked,” Mick growls. “Let me see you play with your tits, Len.”

Leonard drags his shirt upward, stopping in the same place as before. “I don’t have ‘tits’,” he says.

“You have fucking beautiful tits, Len.” Mick beats a fist against the glass again, growling in frustration. “Stop arguing with me.” Rolling his eyes—he’s never won that particular battle and, really, he doesn’t care, Leonard strips off his shirt, pulling it over his head. He discards it onto the floor as Mick groans softly. “Yeah…”

“Yeah?” Leonard repeats. His hands graze his nipples, fingers pressing against the buds in a soft, smooth motion that has his nerves starting to spark. “Oh fuck,” Leonard breathes. He pinches himself and pulls, his eyes fluttering and his cock jerking in its cage of black lace. He licks his lips and does it again.

Mick presses up against the glass, his cock hard in his pants and his eyes just this side of desperate. His fist bangs uselessly as he pants. Leonard drops his gaze to the thick bulge at Mick’s crotch. “Are you going to do something about that?” he asks. He might not be crazy about strip clubs, but watching Mick jerk off has always been a show that Leonard would pay for. It’s how into Mick gets, how he likes to wallow in the pleasure, tease himself until he explodes.

“No,” Mick says. Leonard tilts his head, a question on his lips, and Mick answers him without having to be asked. “Time Masters didn’t like their operatives doing that. Said that it distracted us.”

“Of course not,” Leonard says. He rolls his eyes. “Because then you might remember what sex feels like and then how would anything get done?” He drops his right hand to his cock and shamelessly grabs himself through the lace. “I guess I’ll just have to jerk it for the both of us. That’s a shame.” He dips the band of the panties down to let his cock hang out and gives himself a few firm strokes. Mick echoes his moan.

Mick watches Leonard intently as he bends down to open the duffle. Leonard digs through and pulls out a bottle of lube and a silicone dildo. He chuckles as Mick groans. “Look familiar, Mick?” he asks. “It should. I had Gideon model it on a scan of you.” Gideon had all kinds of privacy-invading data gathered on them. Seeing as how it had led to him getting his hand back, though, Leonard thinks that he’ll allow it. 

“That’s messed up,” Mick says.

Leonard shakes his head. “What’s messed up is you still refusing to touch yourself.” He waves the dildo at Mick. “I’m going to fuck myself with this and you get to watch.” First, however…

Leonard drops to his knees in front of Mick, eyes looking up at him while Mick stares back, seemingly frozen. Leonard smirks and flicks his tongue, licking upwards as if there was no barrier between them. Mick swears and catches himself as his knees try to buckle. “That’s too bad,” Leonard says regretfully, his eyes dropping down to Mick’s crotch. Mick’s got a beautiful cock. “I’d really like to suck your dick right now.”

“Fucking tease,” Mick groans. “Goddamned fucking slutty tease.” He rocks his hips against the glass, humping the barrier and Leonard chuckles as he pulls away.

“Guess I’m just going to have to settle for this,” he says, holding the dildo up to his mouth. His lips close around the head and slide down. Above him, each of Mick’s breaths are audible—rattling pants that made him sound like a bull. Leonard pulls back again and gives the dildo one last lick, then turns to put his ass towards Mick. He doesn’t let himself think about what he looks like or what he might do if someone were to walk in on them, only about what Mick likes and how Mick reacts. He drops himself onto his hands and spreads his legs as he pushes backward.

“ _Fuck, Lenny,_ ” Mick whines and Leonard hears him drop to the floor. “ _God._ ” Leonard looks over his shoulder at where Mick is flat against the barrier on his knees, face contorted in a pained snarl as he tries to will himself onto the other side. Letting himself moan softly, Leonard reaches back and pulls the black lace panties to the side to bare himself. His fingers slide through the crack of his ass to his hole. Mick bangs rhythmically against the clear wall between them.

Leonard fumbles for the lube and returns his fingers wet and slick. He dips one inside of himself, his mouth wordlessly dropping open as his toes curl. He’s always loved having something inside of him, loved the feeling of being filled, and it’s been awhile. His heart is thumping in his chest, his body already thrumming with anticipation.

A whimper escapes before he can catch it, quiet and weak and desperate. Mick answers him with a growling huff and Leonard decides it doesn’t matter. There’s no one here but him and Mick, no one to pretend for.

Mick’s always liked him to make noise anyway.

Leonard slips another finger into himself. He pumps both digits in and out, his body shaking involuntarily. The floor is cold and hard beneath his knees but he presses his chest against it anyway, wanting the leverage the new position gives him. He rubs his cheek against the floor as he pushes in deeper.

Mick’s muttering incoherently, things that sound like words but are really whispered syllables strung together because he can’t seem to finish one thought before moving onto the next. Leonard can make out “Len” and “fuck” and “want” while the rest degenerates into a rambling mess.

Memories of doing this before, presenting himself to Mick or having Mick do it, are hitting him hard and fast, reminding him of how much he wants this, how much he wants Mick. He thinks of Cairo, of sweat clinging to his skin as Mick brings him off with two fingers and an ancient, priceless statue of Bast keeps watch. He thinks of Versailles, Mick stretched out on expensive sheets after a heist, handcuffs wrapped around his wrists and holding him to the headboard while Leonard teases over top of him. 

He thinks of Central City and the little house in the suburbs where he and Mick sometimes lay low, pretending they’re a normal couple who just happen to travel a lot. He thinks of Keystone City and the hotel a few blocks down from the courthouse—small, cheap, and one of Leonard’s favorite locations in the world. They’d whispered words to each other that they’d only recently learned had any meaning.

Leonard flips onto his back, wanting to see Mick. He fumbles for the dildo, slicking it up, and slides himself closer to Mick’s cell. Mick stares down at him helplessly, red-faced and straining, his hand cupping his still-clothed dick. Panting, Leonard pushes the silicone inside of himself, his back arching off the floor incrementally with each inch he slips in. His eyes threaten to close as he steadily forces it in, cock jumping against his stomach. Mick rumbles, his hips thrusting, fucking the air like he wants to fuck Leonard. Leonard pumps the dildo in time with Mick, pretending it’s him, that there’s nothing between them but skin and that they get to do this.

His free hand skitters upward to grab at his chest, pinching and pulling and rubbing, while his cock throbs and his body shakes. Mick’s mutterings are a steady stream of filth, still random words and syllables thrown together with every dirty word Mick can think of.

Leonard pushes the dildo in deep and leaves it there, his hand rising to stroke his cock, pumping it hard and fast, because the other is still attached to his chest. His body strains, tightens, and Leonard goes faster, harder, until his vision is whiting out in an explosion of stars, his toes curling as he comes. He pants, sucking at the air as aftershocks surge through him, still shaking with the last waves of his orgasm. Mick’s voice is now just a continuous growl, words having left him entirely.

Leonard lets his hands fall away. They flop useless against the hard floor, his legs following suit, sprawling like cooked spaghetti. “Fuck…” he whispers. He can’t stop the tremors that are rippling through his extremities. His arm shakes as he raises it again. He flattens it against his stomach, trying to steady it, before reaching down between his legs and grabbing the dildo that his muscles have tightened around. He hisses as he pulls the silicone free, his body not wanting to give it up, and then he sighs as a bone-deep contentment settles into him.

Mick hums as Leonard sits up and stretches. His dick is still hard but at some point he’d abandoned the Time Masters’ admonishments against touching himself because his hand is down his pants. Leonard smiles and tries to stand. His legs threaten to give out, still working through the pleasure, and he braces himself against the cell. Leonard laughs. “Can’t seem to stand right.”

“You usually stay put after you’ve been fucked,” Mick says, his voice still rough with arousal but coherent again.

Leonard nods. “There’s a reason for that,” he admits. It's usually not worth the trouble. His legs are usually always unsteady if he comes with something inside of him. He takes a deep breath and pushes himself slowly away from the cell. His legs try to rebel when he takes a tottering step forward but he forces them into line. He straightens the black lace around his hips, pulling it to cover his ass again and gingerly tucking himself back into it.

Mick watches him quietly, still on his knees, as Leonard picks up his abandoned clothes and slips them back on again, shirt first, then pants, then boots. He’s tying his laces when Mick speaks, just a low, quiet, “Thanks.”

Leonard shoots him a look and pulls the laces of his left boot taut. “Welcome,” he says. He hopes that he’s done more than just given Mick a show, but there’s no way of really knowing for sure. Mick’s been through quite an ordeal and though Leonard doesn’t like to think about it—realizing how badly he failed—he can respect it. He’s willing to do more, go further if he has to.

Mick stays on his knees as Leonard gathers the rest of his things and heads for the door. He presses the intercom for Gideon, paging the artificial intelligence. “Gideon, you may unlock the door and resume monitoring this room.”

“Of course, Mr. Snart,” Gideon said. “I trust you had a good talk with Mr. Rory.” Leonard shrugs before he realizes that it means nothing to the computer.

“I suppose,” he says. He looks back at Mick who meets his eyes but stays silent. Leonard nods at him and leaves. 

Rip is standing in the hallway, frowning at the door. “Mr. Snart,” he exclaims, surprised. "What are you doing here?" Rip glances into the room, quickly spotting Mick against the cell wall.

Leonard’s lips stretch into a smirk. “Therapy,” he says and walks away. He’ll come back later. He always comes back for Mick.


End file.
